November

Sometime soon,

The remembrance of your deaths

And the sad, sweet smell of

Chrysanthemums will fill the room

You should have been,

Could have been, birthdays pass by

I’ll sit alone in my room

For the month of November and cry

Don’t think for a moment

I have forgotten you

I’ve carried you forward

Through grandchildren

You never had the chance

To know would exist

Father, your grandson

Looks a lot like you

Auburn hair, tall and thin,

Handsome, eyes of blue

And Mother, your smile

Appears in the face

Of my little girl,

She has your shiny black hair

And china white skin

My life is fulfilled

By learning new skills

But the month of November

I’ll spend remembering you.